Slow Fire Burn
by wilderminded
Summary: It's the implication that there is something going on between Gale and Madge. When Katniss goes off to the Hunger Games, who else does Gale turn to but the Mayor's daughter? Gadge, slight AU/mostly canon from Madge's perspective.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! I had originally uploaded this in 2015 and then forgot it existed. I recently rediscovered it and wanted to pick it back up, but I wanted to rewrite some pieces to make the rest of the story flow better. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to leave a review if you wish.

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Over much of my life, I had gotten good at making myself numb to most things. I was numb to my absent mother's neglect; she was too ill with her own demons to do much of anything let alone raise me. My father did the best that he could but being the mayor of District 12 came with its own demanding schedule. I was numb to the alienation that I felt from my classmates. As the mayor's daughter, I very clearly did not fit in with the Seam kids, who did without even the most basic survival necessities. I wasn't too welcome with the Merchant kids either though. While they had more luxuries, they didn't have access to the wealth that my family did and most of them didn't trust me. I learned to keep quiet to protect myself from the taunting of my classmates, and I did not care much for the silly topics that other girls my age were enthralled with.

I guess that's why we were such kindred spirits, Katniss and me. We both had places we would much rather be, and we didn't feel the need to make meaningless small talk. The silence between us was comforting enough most days. My father liked her too, seeing as how he overlooked her activities and bought strawberries from her regularly.

When she took her sister's place at the Reaping, I could barely handle the sickening knot in my stomach and the guilt I felt. I knew I had to do something for the girl who was my only real friend in the district. I gave her the pin that belonged to my aunt, a tribute in the 50th Hunger Games. I had hoped that she would wear it as her token during the Games, but at the least her family could sell it for money to feed themselves.

As I watched the Capitolites parade her and the baker's boy around in the opening festivities to the Games, I tried to make myself as numb as I could to the very real possibility that she would not come back. My father was required to attend dinners in honor of the annual tradition and while I usually went with him, it felt especially wrong this time. So I sit alone in the living room of our large house for the required viewings.

As I sit quietly picking at the loose thread on the arm of my sweater with my hands slightly shaking, I think back to the day of the Reaping. How she had brought strawberries to us with her friend, Gale. He had lashed out at me over the injustice of the Reaping, how my name was only in 5 times. The social status of my family prevented me from having to take out tesserae like he and Katniss. His name was in 42 times. I tried to not take this jab personally, I could not control any of our circumstances.

Gale stood behind me in line to see Katniss after the Reaping, while everyone was waiting to say their goodbyes. I could feel the heat of his glare against my back, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

_It's not fair. None of this is fair. _

I let out a sharp, frustrated breath as I jump to my feet. I do not want to sit here and watch whatever fanfare they are projecting on the screen in front of me. I pull on my shoes, wrapping my sweater tighter around my body as I slip out of my backdoor. I follow dark alleyways through town, to avoid Peacekeepers, until I reach the edge of the woods. I follow a well-worn path by memory until I reach a small clearing. I am not brave enough to venture deeper into the woods like others that I know, but this quiet space dimly lit by the setting sun gives me the solace I am looking for.

With the setting sun goes the busy noises of birds and the wind through the trees. I sit on a large rock toward the edge of the meadow, my arms wrapped around my small waist as I watch the way the grass flows with the gentle breeze.

I barely get a moment to relax before I hear brances crunching behind me. I freeze in fear, all of the possibilities running through my head. I whip my head around after a beat, my eyes searching the dusky tree line behind me as the noise gets closer. I take in a sharp gasp when I see a figure approaching closer, my heart racing until I recognize the face that emerges just a few feet from where I sit. _Gale_.

"Are you following me now?" I ask, watching him as he walks closer.

"I was just wondering what the hell the Mayor's daughter is doing in the woods, at night no less," he says calmly, placing his hands in his jacket pockets as he shrugs. His steel grey eyes trained on me in a way that I couldn't quite interpret.

I scowl at the connotations of 'the Mayor's daughter'. "Why aren't you at home watching the Opening?"

He sits down beside me and shrugs again, his eyes fixed toward the sunset through the trees. "Same reason as you, I suppose. Doesn't feel right to watch all of this happen and pretend that it isn't my best friend being groomed and parades around for a bloodbath."

I don't say anything for a moment, studying his tensed jaw and furrowed brow. "It's not fair," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What do you know about fair?" he snaps, finally turning to look at me. I huff out a breath and meet his steely glare with just as much anger reflected back in my own sky-blue eyes.

"Stop giving me shit for things I have no control over, Hawthorne. You don't know anything about me," my voice in a bitter clip as I snap back.

He shakes his head, his lips in a hard line as he looks away again. "I know you've never known what it's like to go hungry. You've never held the responsibility of other people's lives..." he starts to rant and then trails off.

I let the heaviness hang between us for a long moment. "Neither of us can help the situations we were born into," I state quietly, and he nods. Though even without a word, I can still nearly taste the bitterness in the air.

We are both silent for a while before he speaks up again, this time his voice much softer as his head hangs down. "What if she doesn't come back? She's my best friend."

"I don't know, Gale," I say helplessly as he runs his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

I steal a moment to admire the boy beside me. In the settling darkness, I can just make out the line of his sharp features and I feel an old familiar, out-of-place feeling stir in me and I instantly feel a little guilty. I used to watch him at school, and as the years went on he grew more and more handsome. I found myself more attracted to the dark-haired men of the Seam than the blonde Merchant boys I should be attracted to. Which could only spell trouble for the daughter of a District mayor. Anyone could see that he was in love with Katniss, but that didn't stop most of the girls in school from having crushes on him.

"Why are you staring at me?" He finally speaks up without so much as a glance in my direction. Hunter's instincts, I think.

"Just trying to figure you out. You're hard to read, Hawthorne," I tell him, blushing when I see him smile a little.

"Good. Who says I want to be figured out, Undersee?" he counters, finally looking back over at me. I smirk and shrug, looking up at the stars that have become visible thanks to the sun's disappearance. He follows my gaze, "I never take a moment to look up at the night sky."

"The stars are so beautiful... Makes it hard to believe that life under them can be so ugly," I reply quietly, folding my hands in my lap as I look back down toward the ground. "I wish I could just escape it all. Run away from the Reapings, away from being the Mayor's daughter, away from everything."

He's silent for a moment before he speaks up again. "This will never end unless people stand up to the Capitol."

His words chill me to the bone and goosebumps cover my arms. No one says things like this in District Twelve, at least not this freely. Certainly never to someone like me. Any stirring of a rebellious spirit is shut down without so much as a second thought. "That will never happen. It can't," I say, trying to make myself believe it. It's the fear of the unknown that makes me want to refuse this as a possibility. Too many people would die.

We don't say anything for a few minutes, the air between us is uncomfortable. His words don't sit well with me. If the wrong person would hear this, it would be over for him, his entire family... I can't begin to imagine, I don't want to. After a while, I stand up, pulling my sweater around my body again. "I should be getting back before someone notices that I'm gone..." I know that no one is at home to notice my absence. No one lucid, that is. I start walking toward the tree line where the path begins when I hear his footsteps behind me. "I don't need an escort," I say defiantly, huffing out a frustrated breath.

"I'm not stupid enough to let a girl like you walk in the forest alone at night," he tells me, his long strides catching him up with me in seconds. I know that he has more knowledge about the dangers of the forests than I do, but the stubborn girl in me doesn't like the idea that I can't take care of myself. I try to speed up my steps, but his much longer legs have no trouble keeping up with me. Suddenly, in my haste I stumble and just as I'm about to fall face first into the dirt below me, a hand around my arm breaks my fall.

I stumble back into him a little as I steady myself, brushing back the waves of blonde hair that fell into my face. He chuckles, his hands out to make sure that I don't fall again. "Careful there."

I try to ignore the way my arm tingles where his hand just was and I huff out a shaky breath, starting off again. "I'm fine... but thank you," I say, glancing over my shoulder back at him. I can nearly feel his smile as I walk ahead of him and we don't say anything else until we reach town. I expected him to veer off toward the Seam as we reached the edge of town, but I felt his presence behind me as I retraced my steps through the alleyways.

As I climbed the steps to my house, I looked back at him and gave him a small, grateful smile. "You didn't have to walk me home," I brushed off, my voice soft.

He shrugged, his hands in his pocket as he looked up at me. "I know, but I wanted to anyway. Goodnight, Undersee," he nodded as I reached for the door, a small grin playing on the corners of his lips before he turned away and started back down the alley. I stood there for a moment, watching him walk away before I stepped into the warm glow of my house.


	2. Chapter 2

Today began the Hunger Games, and the majority of District 12 was gathered in the main square to watch the opening events. The usual somber mood was muted with an unusual buzz as people chatted amongst themselves. This was the first year that this district had hope, and watching it spark stirred something in me. Most of the district knew on some degree of Katniss's abilities from trading with her, and everyone certainly saw her volunteer for Prim and how the Opening Ceremonies unfolded. This was the first year that one of our tributes had a fighting chance.

I scanned the crowds from where I stood, the speakers loud as Caesar Flickerman's voice boomed with excitement in some pre-show chatter. I caught sight of a familiar face across the square, alone as he leaned against a brick wall. It had been a few days since Gale had walked me home, and I was debating if I should go stand with him. I knew the kind of anxiety I was feeling, my stomach twisting in knots, and I could only imagine that it was tenfold for him.

I made my way through the throngs of people, weaving between the clusters amongst the low chatter until I reached him. I said nothing, leaning against the wall beside him with my eyes trained on the screens ahead of us. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes as the five-minute countdown clock began.

"She's going to survive this, right?" he finally spoke up, his voice soft and unsure. I looked up to meet his eyes and tried to manage a small reassuring smile.

"She's going to make it out of there," I said, somewhat convincing even myself with the confidence in my voice. I wanted to believe that. As we watched the clock, I saw some of the Seam resident around us giving Gale sad glances, but he seemed not to take notice. His face was unreadable; his grey eyes fixed on the screen and his mouth in a hard line.

As the countdown clock reached the last 3 minutes Gale pushed off of the wall suddenly, shaking his head. "I can't do this. I can't watch this," he muttered, striding off away from the crowds of people. I hesitated for a moment before following him, my eyes cast down to avoid everyone who turned around to look at me. I already stuck out and I hated the feeling of being watched.

"Gale!" I hissed when we were out of earshot of those on the outer edge of the square, my shorter legs fighting to catch up with him. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"I'm not going to watch this," he shook his head again, his hands balled into fists as he headed toward the tree line in the direction of the Seam. I huffed as I tried to keep up, glancing behind us to see if anyone else had followed.

Once we had passed a long row of run-down shacks, he stopped and turned to me. "Go back, Madge."

"No," I said defiantly, my blue eyes meeting his steel-like ones. "I'm not leaving you alone. You don't have to be alone right now." It was easy to see that his destination was the woods. It's where he feels safest, I thought to myself.

He scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking off for a moment before his eyes turned back to me. "I wouldn't want you to get lost," his half-assed response elicited an eye roll from me.

"I wouldn't think you could get lost out there," I taunted him playfully, trying to lighten his mood. His brief smirk and shake of his head told me that I had succeeded, even if just for a second.

"I don't get lost," he retorted, and I crossed my arms.

"Then I'll be fine," I resolved, raising an eyebrow. "I mean it, you don't have to be alone right now."

He studied me for a moment before shrugging, turning back toward the dirt path. "Fine, but keep up, Undersee."

The further we walked into the trees, the fainter the sounds of the Games playing over the speakers in the Square became. I admired how deftly he moved among the roots and brush; the only audible footsteps were my own. When we reached the fence, he held up a loose section of it for me to duck under and as I did, my heart raced. I had never dared to go past the meadow before, let alone outside of the district. But as I watched Gale move with ease among the trees, I realized that he was the one I felt the safest with here. Well, he and Katniss, I remembered sadly.

We reached a small stream and he stepped over the rocks without hesitation, stopping to turn to me with his hand out. I accepted it with a small, grateful smile and followed his same footsteps on the small step stones he had just crossed.

We started walking again in silence, and I took the quiet moments to take in our peaceful surroundings. The way the birds flitting in the branches above us, singing their own songs, made me wish I, too, could be a bird. Free. Gale stopped, kneeling beside a hollow log and reaching inside. He pulled out a bow and arrow, easily slinging it over his shoulder.

"Just in case," he said, his voice soft with a sad smile.

"How much farther are we going?" I asked as we worked our way up a hill. Gale had started talking now, pointing out some types of plants as herbs as we passed. I mostly kept quiet, allowing him to let me into his space the best that I could. His face and shoulders were much more relaxed now than they had been earlier, like he had come to life out here.

"Just up here a little farther," he nodded up to the top of the hill, adjusting the bow sliding down his shoulder. The sun was moving lower in the sky, and I would guess it to be late afternoon.

As we reached the top of the hill, I let out an audible gasp at the view. The rolling hills, much like the one we had just climbed, seemed to go on as far as I could see. Vibrant green from the trees covered them like a carpet and the bright sun was the only thing in the sky that was the perfect shade of blue. Where we stood was a small clearing of a sort, the tall grasses waving gently in the breeze. I looked over to Gale, who gave me a nod and a small, understanding smile.

"It's breathtaking, I know," he admitted, and I agreed wordlessly. "I like to come up here sometimes."

"Even the most beautiful thing in Twelve doesn't compare to this. This feels so..." I trailed off, unable to fully place the word I needed.

"Free?" he finished, tossing the bow and arrow on the ground before sitting down beside them.

I followed him, wrapping my arms around my slender legs pulled to my chest. "Yeah," I all but whispered, the tempting nature of the word sitting in the air. Just like the birds, free, my mind echoed the thoughts of the birds earlier and my thoughts wandered to Katniss. I felt guilty that I hadn't thought of her more in the last hour. I wondered where she was, if she was even still alive...

We sat quietly for a moment; Gale playing with a piece of grass between his fingers as I watched a bee fly from flower to flower a few feet away. "Tell me about your family," I asked, unsure of where my confidence came from.

His eyes met mine, studying my face. Deciding whether to trust the Mayor's daughter, I assumed. "I have three younger siblings; two brothers and a baby sister. My mother works like hell to provide for our family. She does laundry for people around the district. With what I'm able to bring home for food, it gets us by just enough. My father died in a mining accident, the same one that killed Katniss's father," he explained.

"I remember that," I admit quietly, the memory of standing behind my father while he gave Medals of Valor to the children of the men killed in the mine those few years ago. My heart ached at the thought the same way it had then, and I had been haunted by the look of despair on the faces of the mothers and eldest children who were facing a reality they didn't deserve. "Is that how you met?"

He shrugged, looking off toward the distance before shifting his eyes back to the ground. "We ran into each other in the woods a few weeks after that, and we've been hunting partners ever since."

"So she's as skilled as I thought she was?" He chuckled and nodded, gesturing to the bow lying beside him.

"Even better. She never misses. She taught me everything I know with them." I saw the glint of pride in his eye when he spoke of her, and a pang of jealous caught me off-guard. I couldn't think of anyone who would speak of me with the same affection.

"She has a real chance, you know," I told him, "She's okay. She's smart, she made it out. I know she did." He sighed, the corners of his lips flicking up briefly into a smile.

"You tell me about your family now, Undersee," he returned the question, his elbows resting on his knees.

I snorted out a small laugh and ran a hand through my hair. "You already know my father. He's busy most days. He's kind and he does his best, but I don't seem him often. My mother...my mother is around even less. She stays in bed most days. My aunt was in the Second Quarter Quell, Maysilee Donner. She was killed, and since then my mother hasn't been the same. Or so I've been told. This is the mother I've always known. She loves me, I think. She has just given up. I have no siblings, so it has just been me for as long as I can remember."

"What does the future look like for you? What does the daughter of a Mayor choose to do?" he asked, and for the first time the allusion to my status as the Mayor's daughter didn't feel like an insult.

"I don't know, honestly. Marry a merchant is probably my father's preferred route, I suppose. I want nothing to do with politics. Maybe train to be a teacher," I mused. "What about you?" I looked to him and noticed the wryful chuckle as he shrugged.

"The mines have been the only place for someone like me," he told me and I internally kicked myself for not realizing this sooner. 'Someone like him'. There was only one career path available for those in the Seam. They grew up knowing that they were destined for the coal mines. "I actually start there in a few weeks after I turn 19. But on the bright side, I'll never go through a Reaping again," he laughed bitterly, but I didn't smile.

"How do you go down there for so long?" I wondered, thinking back to the field trips we took in school to the mines. My father always made me go, he said it was good for me to see. I always felt like I was being suffocated the entire time.

"I don't have a choice," his voice was clipped, and all I could do was frown. He was right.

"They do this on purpose- the Capitol," I say, my voice still quiet as if I was paranoid that someone else was listening. I didn't know if anyone could be listening out here. "They separate people using wealth to create divisions. If we're too busy hating each other, we don't have the energy to think about what they're doing. My father... being the Mayor of a district is nothing more than a placeholder. We both know that the Peacekeepers hold all of the authority. Our 'status' means nothing, we're expendable the same way everyone else in the districts are."

Gale's eyes never left my face as I voiced thoughts that I had been mulling over for years now, and it was hard to pin down how it felt to get them off of my chest. He didn't say anything for a few moments after I finished. "You're smarter than I thought," he admits, his lips curling into a small smile. "You're not so bad, I guess, Undersee."

I roll my eyes, my cheeks turning a slight pink at the compliment. "You too, Hawthorne."

-.-.-

We stayed on the hill talking until the sun reached the top of the horizon, the sky morphing from the deep sky blue to a faint baby blue streaked with orange and pink. "I don't think I want to go back," I say softly, glancing back at Gale waiting at the tree line for me.

"I never do either, but it's always waiting when I come back," he reassures me, and I took note of the way the setting sun reflected in his grey eyes and dark hair.

"Thanks for letting me come with you today," I look up at him through my lashes and he nods slightly in response, hesitating for a moment before he starts off back down the same path we followed here a few hours ago.

We don't say anything the entire way back until we reach the meadow, where I'll take a different path back to my house. Gale stops, turning to me. "Madge..." he starts, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Thank you."

I give him a small smile and nod in response before turning back, but I can feel his eyes following me until I'm out of view.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a short chapter of mostly character building for Madge. I have most of this story and a follow up one planned through the events of both books, so this will be a slow build, longer-in-length work. Thank you to everyone for your comments and support since publishing the first two chapters!

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I felt relief walking into my house, seeing the recap of the bloodbath on the screen and Katniss safe in the forest... as safe as she could be in the arena. I stopped in the doorway, watching for a quiet moment when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jumped in surprise, whipping around to see my father standing behind me.

"Oh! You startled me, father," I say, a sheepish grin as my cheeks flush and my heart rate thuds in my chest.

My father is a tall man, though not nearly as tall as Gale, with a thicker build than most in the district. I attribute that to the years of eating without worry and banquets with Capitol officials. He was balding but refused to remove what was left of the spare hairs. His blue eyes were striking, though softer in tone like my own.

"I thought I heard you down here," he smiles, nodding toward the television behind me. "She's your friend, the girl with the strawberries?"

"Yeah, she is," I confirm, my blonde curls brushing over my shoulder as I glance back at the screen too.

"She's caused quite the chatter in the Capitol, volunteering for her sister and all," he says, his voice casual as he pulls out a white ceramic mug, beginning to make tea.

"I'm sure she must hate the attention" I respond quietly, and he chuckles to himself.

"Yes, but that attention will keep her alive," he raises an eyebrow in my direction and I nod softly in agreement. "She's very skilled, but the donations that attention brings in will give her the advantage that she needs."

I knew he was right. "I heard that the people in the Hob have started a donation pot for her," I mention as my father finishes making the tea.

"As he walks past, he gives me a wink. "I know, I gave the first donation," he whispers before disappearing up the stairs. "Get some rest, Madge"

My father was always hard for me to read, but I suppose it had to be that way. Being an official in Panem meant walking a thin line to avoid retaliation for even the smallest offenses, though it seemed to be more relaxed here in Twelve. My father kept to himself mostly, but occasionally would surprise me like the day he began purchasing strawberries from the crafty Seam girl.

I sighed as I turned off the lights in the sitting room, the dim flicker from the broadcast now focused on the unnaturally colorful Caesar Flickerman and his cohost. I turned it off, effectively silencing the speculation that I wanted to avoid. For as long as I had memories, each year we hosted the victors and their entourage on the Victory Tour and each year I was appalled and amused by the gaudy appearance of the Capitolites. The ways in which they willingly mutilated their bodies in the name of "beauty" was something I could never understand, though I had become quite skilled at maintaining a neutral expression while observing them. My father was careful with the manner in which he handled the Capitol guests; any inkling of disrespect or discord would mean automatic demotion or worse. Though he never explicitly told me this, I knew I played a part in that and I did my best to stay within boundaries I set for myself.

As I walked into the bathroom, I saw my reflection in the small metal-framed mirror that hung above our sink. The bridge of my nose and cheeks were tinted a light pink; no doubt from sitting in the sun longer than my fair skin was used to. I could see the faint freckles developing and I thought back to my childhood with my freckled nose and blonde waves that my mother tried to keep contained with pretty ribbons. I always managed to pull them out, my long hair falling lose much to her dismay. There were shadows under my eyes—they were still bright though tired.

I sighed, combing through my blonde locks and brushing my teeth before retreating to my bedroom. Maybe sleep would find me tonight... or so I could hope.

Before I had fallen asleep the night before, I could not help but think of my father strolling into the Hob. Everyone knew what went on in there, but the district officials turned a blind eye. Many of them benefitted from it anyway, like the group of Peacekeepers that frequented it for lunch. It was harmless really, just people trying to support themselves and their families. But to imagine the Mayor walking in for nothing more than to show support for one of their own, it stirred something in my mind though I couldn't quite place what it was.

I was always awake before the rest of my family, and this morning I decided to walk through town as the sun rose and the dew was still slick on the uneven cobblestone streets. My father wasn't keen on my habit of taking off for walks, but he long ago ceased to mention it as I got older.

I saw a warm glow coming from a few storefronts, one that I immediately recognized as the bakery. I felt a pang of guilt that I had not thought of Peeta much at all throughout this, even though he was very much in the same situation as Katniss. Probably worse off, if I was honest with myself. Katniss had an instinct for self-preservation that came only from the circumstances that she dealt with for most of her life. Peeta had been sheltered as a merchant's son, much like myself. Peeta and I would probably fair the same in the arena, I thought. How could I defend myself, with deadly piano keys?

I thought of the sweet baker's boy, and how he had always been nothing but kind to me when we crossed paths. It was hard to imagine someone with his gentle disposition in an environment such as the arena, though I supposed that survival could bring certain things out in people. And I recalled his confession during his interview with Caesar, how he had been in love with Katniss since boyhood. I believed him, the pain in his eyes was too real to be a ploy for sympathy.

I sighed, trying to imagine what his family must be going through before my feet made the decision my mind was mulling over. I pushed open the bakery door and a small chime sounded as it swung open enough for me to slip through. Most of the merchants lived above their businesses which I guessed made the line between home and work blur more than the children would have liked.

I offered a good morning, choosing a few loaves that I knew my parents enjoyed. As the blonde boy placed the bread into a paper bag, I slid the money across the counter.

His eyes wide as he saw the extra coins I laid down, but I kept my face neutral. "Oh, I think..." he started but I shook my head to cut him off. =

"No, that's the right amount," I said, before gathering my things and leaving, noticing the small smile on the boy's lips. I didn't need the extra coins, I had decided. I would never need as much as had been afforded to my family.


	4. Chapter 4

Our school gave us a holiday every year for the few weeks that the Games were broadcasting, the Capitol deeming it of the utmost importance for most life to take pause. This meant that aside from the mines and some merchants, everyone was to take the time off to watch the torturous broadcast. As the daughter of the Mayor, I had been afforded the luxury of my father's library as a child, though stocked with Capitol-approved titles only. By now, I had read my way through all of the books I found interesting. I had loved helping our housekeeper tend to our small patch of flowers as a child, though I mostly occupied myself with reading or playing the piano.

On days like today when I had nothing to take up my time, I found myself on the piano bench playing my way through the keys in patterns that had become second nature over the years. My mother felt well enough to come downstairs and was perched in a chair by the window, wrapped in a blanket with her tea in hand. Some days, when the migraines hit especially hard, even the soft music from the piano was too much and I was confined to silence. But my mother always insists that she loves hearing me play, so I do today—for her.

Her eyes were focused on the life outside of the window, but I watched her quietly. Between my parents, I resembled my mother the most. We had the same wavy blonde hair and soft features, but my blue eyes came from my father. I had a distant memory of my mother mentioning to my father that I looked so much like Maysilee; a thought that put her in bed for three days after. I supposed I did after all, they were twins.

"I wonder how Emily is doing," she says softly, breaking the silence between us.

"Emily?" I respond, my fingers stilling on the piano keys as I try to place the name.

She nods wordlessly, her eyes still gazing through the window. "Her mother." It takes me a moment before I realize that she means Mrs. Everdeen. They must have been friends as children, I think. Mrs. Everdeen was the daughter of the apothecary in the district and grew up with the other merchant children. It made sense that they would have known each other.

"I'm not sure," I admit and she sighs sadly, her eyes finally moving from the window to the tea cup cradled in her hands.

"She must be..." she trails off, her voice wavering. "I can't imagine what she must be feeling." She's right, she can't. I was never at any real risk of being reaped, but neither was Prim. One slip of paper is all it takes, I supposed.

"I'm sure this is difficult on them. Katniss has been taking care of them since her father passed away," I tell her, moving from the piano bench to the chair beside her.

"Yes," she says thoughtfully. Her eyes meet mine finally and she gives me a soft, sad smile. I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the way her cheeks curve slightly in. The years of constant pain and dependency on morphling have taken their toll. No one really knew what happened to my mother, and my father once told me that the only relief she has had was the first few years of my life.

"Emily loved him so much," she confides, adjusting the blanket draped around her shoulders. "She heard him sing when we were young, and she never looked back."

"Were the two of you close?" I question, not used to my mother speaking of her past. This was something she had always kept to herself.

She sighs, her eyes gazing back out the window again. "She was our best friend as children." My mind pauses on 'our' before the realization that she means her sister. I nod without speaking, watching her quietly for a moment. I can see that she has retreated into her own mind, so I stand and lean over, kissing her cheek softly. I had always wished for a mother who was present. Frequently I would catch myself lost in a bitterness over what could have been, ashamed and guilty. My mother loved me, even if that didn't fit with my idea of how a mother should be.

I tried to busy myself with the housekeeper, assisting with odd jobs in the kitchen before an idea crossed my mind. I pulled a small satchel from the hall closet, filling it with various items from our pantry. As I turned to walk toward the front door, I noticed my mother watching me from a doorway with a small book in her hands. I recognized it, a poetry book with a songbird drawn on the cover. It sat untouched on our bookshelf for years. I had once tried to touch it, and that had been the only time my mother had raised her voice at me.

"Will you give this to her?" she asks, holding the book out to me as I walk closer. I don't need to ask who; she already knows where I'm going.

I nod, smiling softly as I take it from her and tuck it into a safe pocket of the satchel. "Of course, I will," I promise as she reaches out, rubbing my shoulder gently before disappearing up the stairs.

I slip out of the front door and start down the stone road toward the Seam. I pass silently through the alleys lined with merchant shops; the streets much quieter than they would normally be this late in the morning. Once I reached the Seam, I tried to navigate the dirt paths by vague memory and when I reached the small shack with a goat contained in a small pen at the side, I knew I had found my destination. I had remembered Katniss mentioning the goat her sister doted on a few times during school.

I had barely knocked on the door once when it opened, and Prim's small face peaked out with a small smile. "Madge?" she asked, the door opening more. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see your mother, can I come in?" I ask and she nods, letting me slip in beside her. It isn't until I turn to close the door that I see the eyes watching me from behind curtains across the street. I was used to it by now, but I could only guess that they were not used to seeing someone like me in their neighborhood.

Mrs. Everdeen stood over a wash tub; her arms wet up to the elbows as she worked over some clothes. Their small one room home had the few windows open to let the summer breeze pass through, the small television playing quietly in the back corner. "Miss Undersee, is everything alright?" she asks, using a towel tucked into her belt to dry off her hands as she comes around the table toward me.

I nod reassuringly, my fingers pulling the satchel from my shoulder. "I wanted to bring some things by for you, we have far more than we need..." I say, trailing off as she helps me lift it onto the table. I reach in, pulling out the small book.

I run my thumb along the binding before holding it out for Mrs. Everdeen. "My mother wanted me to give this to you," I tell her, watching her eye fix on the cover. As she takes it from my hands, her fingers brush along the edges of the drawing on the cover. I see the creases in the corner of her eye deepen before she shakes her head, blinking quickly.

"This was her sister's," she says quietly, suddenly grabbing my hand. "Tell her I said thank you?" I nodded in agreement, noticing the tears in her eyes—eyes that looked similar to my own.

"Of course," I promised, both of my hands gripping hers. If she had been close with my aunt, I realized that Katniss wasn't the first person that the Games had taken from her. We let go and she moved to place the book on a small shelf with a beautiful tea set.

"Would you like to stay for a while?" Mrs. Everdeen asked, gesturing toward where Prim was curled up by the tv on a small chair. "I'm just getting some things done, but I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

I accept the offer, taking a spot in a chair beside Prim. As she filled me in on what had happened that morning, I noticed a cat slink in from the open window. He automatically strode over, weaving himself between Prim's legs before she scooped him up in her arms. "What's his name?" I ask, reaching over to scratch the top of his head. He seems to like this, giving me a small purr as Prim strokes down his back.

"Buttercup, I've had him since he was a kitten. Katniss hates him, but she let me keep him," she says proudly as the cat jumps down, fixing the tousled fur on his back end. "My goat's name is Lady."

"I love that," I smile and I see her eyes light up for the first time since I had arrived. Nearly everyone loved Prim, and it was easy to see her gentle nature even just in passing. It was easy to see why Katniss took her place; Prim would have no chance in that arena.

I listened as Prim told me about all of the animals she had attempted to keep as pets, her mother chuckling behind us at the memories, when there was a knock at the door. It swung open and Gale stepped in, his game bag hanging heavy at his hip. He and Mrs. Everdeen immediately get to work sorting through the game and herbs that he brought for her, and it's a few moments before he notices Prim and I across the room.

"Hey, Prim," he says, his smile warm toward her. "Undersee," he nods toward me, though I notice that his smile lingers for just a moment.

"Hawthorne," I return the greeting, Buttercup now weaving himself between my legs.

"I didn't think he liked anyone but Prim," he comments, gesturing at the cat as he pulls over a chair beside Prim.

"He likes people who like him," she retorts, her tone with a slight teasing edge. He chuckles and reaches over to mess up her hair.

"He's only useful for keeping the rats away," he shrugs, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before he looks at the television. The cat turns back to look at him, giving him a half-assed hiss almost on cue before stalking off. "So what's new?" he asks as he rests his elbows on his knees, nodding his head toward the tv.

Prim shrugs, playing with the end of one of her braids. "She was hiding in a tree for most of the morning. The career pack killed a girl right by her and I was scared that they would find her, but they didn't. And... Peeta is with them... the career pack," she tells him, her voice quieter.

"Why would he do that?" he says bitterly, a crease forming between his brows. Prim just shrugs and I say nothing. I am perplexed by this as well as I think back to the gentle boy I had crossed paths with occasionally. He definitely was no Career tribute. Then a thought occurs to me; he might be trying to protect her.

"She's hunting now, but I don't think she's found water yet," Prim finishes and I notice the cat has perched himself at her feet yet again.

"She will, she knows what she's doing more than anyone else in there," he reassures her and Prim gives him a small smile in return.

"This is the most ideal arena she could have hoped for," I chime in and they both nod in agreement. The arena looked so much like the hills surrounding our district. We settle into silence, watching the Games with occasional comments. An hour passed before Gale got up to leave, refusing the trade Mrs. Everdeen tried to give him.

"When do you start?" she questions, finally convincing him to take a salve for his mother's hands that she had made.

"The week after next," he tells her and I think back to our conversation the day before. "I'll try to get ahead on hunting so both families are okay." She thanks him, and his eyes meet mine as I give him a small, sad smile. He disappears out the door, game bag in tow before Prim and I turn back to the screen demanding our attention.


	5. Chapter 5

I had been surprised when Prim asked if I would come back the next day to watch the Games with her, but decided I couldn't say no. I was thankful for the company too. It was better than watching alone at home. I slipped out of my house as everyone in the district was shuffling to work. A majority of the district worked in the mines, but there were some trickling in different directions toward the train station or justice building. I left my blonde hair down, the waves creating a sort of barrier between myself and the people around me. It was a way of isolating myself, something I had gotten too good at.

I remembered the shorter route I had discovered the night before that led from my house to the Seam, avoiding most of the morning foot traffic. My leather boots made soft tapping noises against the dewy bricks of the back alleys, occasionally passing a stray dog looking for scraps or a child running off to school. The back alleys emptied into a wide street lined with warehouses, most of them empty though life had sprung up in one of them years ago. The Hob.

It was busy the night before, but no one seemed to notice me as I passed by, stealing a glance inside. The black market was a way of living for most of the vendors, and it was mostly harmless. My father had always chosen to look the other way, along with old Cray. The Head Peacekeeper had just as much of a taste for the bootlegged alcohol he purchased there as he did the desperate girls he paid to keep his bed warm. My father didn't like him but kept a neutral professional relationship with him. Any other Head Peacekeeper would spell trouble for most of the district and my father alike. The Capitol would punish my father for the things he let slide if they were to find out. Cray always made me uncomfortable, he never did have any restraint where he let his old, drunk eyes go. But I was never the type he pursued.

I was intrigued by the low hum of chatter that came from the old warehouse, a place that had always intimidated me. It was intimidating to most of the people from town, but as I passed it seemed more harmless than ever. This morning, it was quiet as most of the business came in the late evenings. As I strode closer, I noticed a familiar figure in a white uniform with bright red hair leaning against a post outside of the entrance.

"Madge Undersee, I never thought I'd see you in these parts," he remarked, crossing his arms as I came to a stop.

"Hello, Darius," I greeted with a small shake of my head. Darius was one of Twelve's Peacekeepers, and he was generally pleasant to be around. He often made jokes at his own expense, and always tried his shot with every girl who crossed his path. As far as duty goes, he was on a permanent vacation in Twelve. I didn't mind having him around during formal events in the District, even though he often teased me for the ribbons I wore in my hair at the insistence of my father's attendants.

"I don't think I've ever seen you outside of town," he noted, taking another bite of the half-eaten apple he was holding.

I shrugged, leaning against the wall next to him, "I go for walks a lot. Hanging out at the Hob again?"

He chuckled with a curt nod, "You know your father said the same thing to me a few days ago."

"Yeah, he said he was here. I bet that was quite a sight," I grin, the image of my father out of place in the Hob still striking me as amusing.

"What brings you over here?" he pried and I sighed in response.

"I'm going to watch the Games with the Everdeen's," I tell him quietly and he nods without a response for a moment.

"How are they? How is her sister?" he questioned and I shrugged again, glancing over as a few Seam children run by me into the Hob.

"They're alright, all things considered," I told him and he gave me a sad smile.

"The whole thing sucks. She's worked so hard to take care of her family," Darius muttered and I nodded in silent agreement. I realized that they probably crossed paths frequently here over the years.

We talked for a few more minutes and just as I let out a laugh at joke of his, Gale emerged from the entrance of the Hob with his empty game bag at his hip. He spotted us with a raised eyebrow, his eyes moving between the two of us for a moment.

"Is there anyone you won't flirt with, Darius?" he jabbed lightly, and I felt the heat in my cheeks with a blush as Darius chuckled in response.

"Oh, come on, I think the real question is if there's anyone who won't flirt with me," Darius taunted back, giving me a playful wink and nudge on the arm. I only respond with an eyeroll and a small shake of my head.

"If anyone was going to flirt with you, it certainly wouldn't be her," Gale teased, his grin was directed at Darius though his eyes were on me.

"I hate to break it to you, Darius, but he's right," I chime in, shrugging sympathetically before I giggled lightly. Darius feigned insult, but his grin said enough. Just then, a handful of Peacekeepers walked out from the Hob in a commotion of laughter and one of them called his name. He gave us a nod, striding off toward them but not before winking at me playfully. I rolled my eyes immediately, but the pink tinge to my cheeks gave away the still-shy girl who would always reside in me.

When I glanced up at Gale, his expression was mostly unreadable aside from the single dark, arched eyebrow. "What?" I asked, blinking as the sun rose just over the ridge of the warehouse roof across from us shining directly into my eyes. His face changed before he glanced away, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"I guess the Mayor's daughter could marry a Peacekeeper," he remarked and I narrowed my eyes, turning on my heel to walk away from him in the direction of the Seam. "Oh come on, I was joking!" I heard him call behind me, his long, easy strides matching mine so quickly and silently that I flinched when he appeared in step with me seconds later.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" I huffed, folding my arms around my torso. As we reached the nearest houses of the Seam, I made eye contact with an older woman sweeping the stoop of her home before training my eyes on the uneven ground in front of me.

"I-I didn't mean it like that, okay?" Gale gave a half-hearted apology and I snorted a small laugh, shaking my head.

"That's always the first thing people go for when they say anything about me. They don't know anything about me, except that. It sets me apart from them so they attack me for it," I murmured quietly enough that the people passing wouldn't hear me.

"I didn't know it bothered you so much, Madge. I'm sorry," he apologized and I sighed, nodding.

"Well now you do," I muttered.

"Now I do," he agreed, nudging my arm lightly with his elbow and I sighed, letting go of my irritation.

"Darius talks a lot of game, but does anyone actually think he's cute?" I said, a smile playing at the corners of my lips at my own joke.

"Oh, you mean you don't?" Gale questioned and I looked up at him, my eyes narrowed until I saw the smirk and amused glint in his steel grey eyes. I pushed against his shoulder, shoving him lightly enough that he stumbled sideways with a laugh.

"I hate you, Hawthorne," I grumbled, feigning offense though I'm sure he could read right through it. With the rising summer sun came rising temperatures, and I couldn't tell if the heat that spread across my cheeks was because of this or something else. I pushed the ghost of a thought away, pulling my hair up from the back of my neck with a plain tie I kept in my pocket. I never had much of a tolerance for wearing my hair down in the heat, though it drove my mother insane to see it carelessly pulled up.

"I don't think you do," he taunted back, his shoulder bumping into mine as I pulled my hair up. "You're just easy to tease, you're so gullible."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as someone walking by stopped Gale and I kept walking, leaving him behind. 'He can catch up,' I thought with a playful pettiness. He had nearly seven inches on my height, and one stride of his was equal to at least two of my own. I didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't wrong. I was always the last one to catch onto a joke, though occasionally I was thankful for this. Sometimes it was better to not understand the jokes often made at my own expense.

Just as I expected, and as silently as before, he materializes back at my side a few moments later. Nothing was said between us for the next few minutes as we followed the dirt road winding further from town, the trees growing thicker between the small shack homes. I noticed a bright red bird perched on a branch over us and as I glanced up, I caught his eyes on me though they flitted away quickly. He followed my gaze, nodding his head toward it as he said, "Its a cardinal, I've seen them a lot in the winter."

"I remember them from a book in my father's library. Our ancestors used to believe that when you saw a cardinal, it was a loved one who has passed coming to visit you," I recall. "Maybe someone is trying to say hi."

We walk past the tree that held the small bird, though it had already darted off to another tree branch far behind us. "Do you really believe that?" he asked, unconvinced and I looked up at him, shrugging.

"Not really, but it's still a nice thought to have," I say, my hair brushing against my shoulder as I glance at a small, mangy dog trotting past.

"Who would be coming to visit you?" he questioned and I feel a small smile rest on my face as I thought of who I would want to visit me.

"My grandmother, maybe. She taught me to play the piano when I was a small girl. Or my aunt. I never met her, but I always wished I had with the way my mother talks about her. She's always said I remind her of her sister," I admit thoughtfully, my heart aching at the memory of my grandmother. I had been nine when she passed, but I could never forget my favorite memories of afternoons spent on the piano bench next to her trying to match her finger movements into melodies that I still played seven years later. "What about you?"

I look up at him, but his eyes are fixed on something down the road as he stays quiet for a moment. "I don't know... My dad, maybe. I'd like to think that I'm doing enough to fill his role, you know?" Immediately I think of the obligation he feels to start working in the mines to take care of his mother and siblings.

"Your family is better off because of you," I tell him, and his eyes meet mine as I give him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he would think the same." His expression seemed to soften a little, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a brief, sad smile.

As we reached the Everdeen house, we noticed Prim tending to her small goat. Lady, I remembered her telling me the name of the black and white nanny. She greeted us with a gentle grin as she rubbed the spot between the goat's horn nubs, the small animal pressing her head into Prim's knee as she did this. "Did you find the herbs my mom was talking about? The ones for mosquito bites?" she asked Gale as he leaned against the shoddy fencing.

"Yeah, but had I known you were going to be milking her this morning, I would have taken it with me to get more," he said, gesturing toward the bucket beside Prim with a jerk of his head though his expression showed that he didn't really mind.

"I wasn't planning on it, but it got me out of the house," she responds, standing up and brushing the dust from her pants as Lady trots off behind her. 'And away from the relentless broadcasting,' I thought.

"I'm about to head out, but I'll stop by and grab it on my way back through to the Hob later, okay?" he offered, reaching into his bag to retrieve a small glass jar filled with an unfamiliar bunch of leaves. He handed it to me as Prim lifted the bucket and stepped over the fencing. "I'll see you guys later," he said and as he moved to walk past me, his shoulder bumped into my own.

I glanced back to watch him walk away as Prim returned the farewell, but I said nothing. Turning back to Prim, we started talking about the morning as we stepped inside the tiny home with the morning sunshine streaming into the windows.


	6. Chapter 6

In the days that followed, the Everdeens', Gale, and myself had settled into somewhat of a daily routine. I arrived to the Everdeens' by late morning most days, usually with a small stash of goods from my pantry. Just enough that our housekeeper wouldn't been too privy to the missing cans. My father had walked in on me one morning, placing that day's steals into a small satchel. He watched me for a long moment but went about his morning without saying anything. He was just as fond of Katniss as I was, and her little sister garnered affection from just about everyone in the district.

Mrs. Everdeen had given me a list of herbs that she had a hard time finding, and I was able to find some of them in my mother's collection of medications from the Capitol. It wasn't often that my father was able to get an order shipped from the Capitol, maybe once or twice a year. She had always insisted on stockpiling anything she could get her hands on, though now most of them have sat untouched for years. All but her morphling.

Gale usually arrived by the early afternoon, dropping off some of his usual morning haul. One evening while walking back to town he explained that in the summer he tried to get his hunting done in the early morning before it became too hot.

I frequently helped Mrs. Everdeen with the chores around their small house, and she had taught me how to make a tincture that she was giving to a neighbor whose son had contracted measles. It helped to distract me from being glued to the broadcasts that never seemed to run out of new content to share, and I never wanted to feel like I was imposing on them. For the past few days, we paid little attention as Katniss was sleeping off the tracker jacker venom after ambushing the Career pack.

The memory of standing frozen as we watched Rue climb from her safe haven in the tree to Katniss's unconscious body, all of us collectively holding our breath as we watched her drag Katniss to a concealed location and begin applying the leaves to her tracker jacker stings. Gale's eyes moved to Prim; his expression unreadable before he looked down at his hands.

"An ally, that's good," Mrs. Everdeen nodded, her voice quiet and shaking as her hands twisted a worn towel between them.

I reached over, my hand resting on her arm as I managed a small, reassuring smile. "Yes, she has someone looking out for her right now," I told her. Her hand gripped mine, her blue eyes blinking away tears quickly before she turned back to the laundry she had been laboring over.

Later that evening, my father was in the main sitting room when I slipped into the house, a half hour shy of when dinner was to begin. He had his back to me, watching the replays of Rue tending to Katniss as she lay unconscious.

"I thought I recognized the pin," he said without turning to look back at me. "I hadn't had a good chance to look at it until now."

"Yes sir," I replied, my voice timid.

I hadn't asked permission to give it to Katniss. My mother had given it to me, though she slipped it into my small trinket box one day when I was a small girl. It wasn't until a few years later when she saw me admiring it that she told me it had belonged to her sister. Her sister that died a bloody death in the Games. I had worn it to every Reaping I participated in, and when Katniss volunteered for her sister, I hadn't second-guessed my decision to give it to her.

After a long moment, I moved to sit beside my father. My hands folded in my lap so I wouldn't nervously pick at the skin around my nails; a habit I had developed recently.

"It's a good token," he remarked after a thoughtful silence. "She wears it well."

To this, I smiled softly and nodded. My father's hand rested on my shoulder, rubbing it affectionately before turning his attention back to the broadcast. I had braced myself for a scolding, for giving away something that meant so much to my family. But he understood the meaning of the pin as much as I did, and what the pin could bring to her family if she wouldn't be the one returning home the way we all had hoped.

My father had rarely scolded me though, this much I knew and should have expected. Sometimes I wondered if he was too soft for his position. The Capitol often ignored our district, so my father got away with letting most criminal activity slide. Especially considering most was committed to keep themselves alive. He didn't much like watching people suffer, but with his hands tied, turning a blind eye to the illegal trading activities was the best he could do.

* * *

A few days later, I had been cutting the carrots Prim had received from a neighbor in exchange for Lady's milk when the door cracked open, the small face of a grinning toddler peeking in. She was quickly followed by Gale, who pushed the door open as he ushered her inside. Mrs. Everdeen looked up, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she saw the little girl. "Posy! What a surprise it is to see you," she greeted.

I couldn't help my own grin as the dark-haired child climbed onto a chair beside of her, laying a fistful of weeds onto the table. "Sorry, she was driving my mother crazy, so she asked me to take her out of the house for a few hours," Gale apologized as he wiped his boots on the rug just inside the door.

"For you!" Posy giggled, her small hand thrusting out toward Mrs. Everdeen as she offered an array of grass blades and dried leaves. Posy then seemed to notice my presence; her eyes trained on me as her expression become one of slight, innocent suspicion. More than likely she had never seen me before, and aside from Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, the people in her life didn't look like me either. This only reinforced my "otherness" in the Seam; that they were right to be suspicious of me even if I was no danger to them. I knew that, but how could they.

I cautiously reached my hand out toward the small pile of weeds she had laid down. "May I?"

She nodded a little, leaning back away from the table where she was hovering over them. I gathered them into a bunch, my other hand reaching up to pull the small ribbon holding my hair up in a lose ponytail. My hair fell free down my back, a few loose strands in my face as I began tying the ribbon in a neat bow around the weeds. Taking care to keep the few flowered ones in order, I smiled softly as I finished. "There, that's better," I said, holding out the bouquet of dandelions, clovers, and grass.

She had watched me intently, a gleeful grin growing as she gingerly cradled it in her hands. Giggling, she climbed off her chair. Before trotting off to make her rounds showing off her new treasure, she looked up to me. "Thank you," she said carefully, as though she had practiced the words for such an occasion.

"My mom has been working on manners with her. Usually she says it as she's throwing a fit about getting a bath. That's the first time she's used it right," Gale chuckled as he swung his game bag into the chair Posy had just vacated with a soft thud.

Mrs. Everdeen smiled to herself as she folded a towel she had draped over her shoulder. "Prim used to greet people by saying 'goodbye'. It took her so long to actually say it when someone was leaving," she recalled, looking over to where her youngest daughter was fighting off a sheepish smile. "Katniss used to call everything a bird. Any animal she saw outside—cat, squirrel, possum. It didn't matter, it was all a bird to her."

The way she so fondly remembered her children made something in my chest ache. Our first housekeeper was the one who took care of me for most of my childhood, and any memories of me she had went with her when she passed of pneumonia years ago. The only stories of my childhood were the ones I remembered myself. In that moment, I would have given anything to trade lives with Katniss. To have a family to feel so fiercely attached to, to have a sister to be so determined to protect. To not be the outcast no matter where I went, to not stand out. And then I caught myself. How selfish to think this, knowing every advantage I had been handed since birth. I had never truly known hunger or desperation. I swallowed, trying to push away the shame I felt in that moment.

Just then, the camera on the broadcast focused in on Rue and Katniss finalizing their plans to destroy the Careers' stockpile at the Cornucopia. Our attention turned, intently watching as Katniss headed off on her own. Posy happily chattering to herself in a blissful oblivion as she occupied herself with one of Prim's dolls she found; the sound a stark contrast of the tense anxiety that hung heavy in the air as we watched this plan set into motion.

"If they're successful, it'll level the playing field," Gale remarked, considering this to be a benefit. "They won't have any power if they lose their stockpile."

Mrs. Everdeen just nodded, her eyes moving between the projection and where Prim sat, her fingers anxiously picking at the seam on her dress. Knowing that Gale and Mrs. Everdeen would begin sorting through the game, I moved to sit next to Prim on the well-worn, small couch.

As I asked Prim about her studies at school to distract from the intense coverage of her sister trekking down to the Careers' stash, Posy approached me again. This time, her small hand reached out to where my hair hung loose around my face, the small bundle of weeds still in her other hand. "Pwetty," she said softly, her fingers brushing against my hair. Without a second thought, she began climbing onto the couch, wobbling unsteadily on the stiff cushion. As she leaned against the back of the couch, carefully laying down the ribboned bundle before she began pulling my hair over my shoulders to lay it down my back in long blonde waves. I hadn't cut my hair in months, letting it grow long past where I normally kept it. Much to the disdain of Leera, the housekeeper, who insisted it was getting out of hand, but I loved the way the blonde waves looked the longer they became.

"Pose-" Gale began scolding, but I shook my head, stopping him. Scooting to the edge of the couch, I patted the seat to motion for her to sit down. As she did, I slid onto the floor, drawing my knees close to my chest. Posy giggled, enthusiastically pawing at the length; her little hands clumsily twisting pieces in what I'm sure she thought to be a braid.

Glancing up to the projection from the tv, I caught Gale's reflection in the old shaving mirror hung on the wall. To my surprise, I saw a rare smile on his face as he watched his little sister. I couldn't blame him. I had always wished for a sibling, at least one. But having me was hard enough on my mother; my father never asked her for another child.

As Prim chatted on about her classes, and what activities she was good at during the outdoor rec time while she showed Posy how to place a simple plait with just a few strands.

"Over, and over, and over," I heard Posy repeat the steps, though she didn't quite have the dexterity to follow them correct. All the same, it coaxed a gentle smile from Prim and Posy was happily entertained for longer than a few minutes.

As Katniss reached the Careers' camping spot at the Cornucopia, the room fell into a tense hush—the only sound being Posy's oblivious hums as she continued playing with my hair. Gale pulled the chair from the kitchen table over beside me, hunched over with his elbows on his knees as we all watched in an uncomfortable, anxious silence. Gale caught on before the rest of us, pointing to the pedestals where holes were dug into the ground.

"Someone dug up the land mines," he remarked with his eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"See how they have all of the supplies piled together?" he asked, pointing toward the projection and the strategy dawned on me with a small 'oh'. The land mines had been replanted to protect their stash. This realization coming seconds before Claudius Templesmith explained exactly this. The lone boy guarding the Cornucopia had been the mastermind behind this plan; on brand for someone coming from District 3.

The District 5 girl hopped in a specific pattern, having memorized the steps in by spying on the Careers for hours. Once she darted off, the District 3 boy went in pursuit of the sound of her footsteps. Katniss stepped free of the brush, figuring out their secret and taking advantage of the unguarded Cornucopia. It seemed as though we held our breath, watching the first arrow slice through the top of the bag of apples, not enough to set them free. Her second, however, sent them falling in a cascade onto the ground. Only a mere moment passed before the land mines detonated in a sequence of blasts that shook the ground so violently, even the cameras planted in the arena shook.

As we watched Katniss fly back and slam hard against the ground, Prim's hand dug into the couch cushion in a death grip. Delirious and struggling to regain her sense of self from the blast, we watched, holding our breath, as she crawled into the heavy brush just as the Careers' re-entered the large clearing. Prim let out a heavy sigh, seeing her sister out of direct harm. For now.

After Katniss scaled a nearby tree to safety, the room seemed to come back to life. Mrs. Everdeen resumed her tasks at hand, and Posy became antsy once again. I took this as a good time to slip out; I could make it in time to lend a hand with dinner to Leera.

I said my goodbyes to Prim, reassuring the anxious girl before I headed for the door. It was only once I stepped over the threshold that I realized I had a tiny shadow following closely behind. Posy was only a few steps behind, once again holding her weeds in her small hand. Gale was only a few paces behind, the game bag hanging from his shoulder.

"I think she's decided that she likes you," he nodded toward his younger sister as the girl leaned against my leg, her fingers playing with the ribbon.

"I think I might be a bigger fan of hers," I smiled, smoothing her dark hair back out of her face.

"You say that now," he chuckled. "She's cute in small doses."

I shrugged, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear as she stepped up to her brother, holding up a small, jagged rock she found at her feet. "Meadow," Posy ordered as he took the small rock from her, dropping it to the ground behind his back where she wouldn't notice. I couldn't help but match his knowing grin toward me, shaking his head slightly.

"I promised her I'd take her to the meadow before we went home. Do you want to come, Undersee?" Gale asked, Posy already trotting off down the dirt road.

I hesitated for only a moment before I nodded, falling in step with him easily as he called out for Posy to slow down. She eventually let us catch up, immediately reaching for my hand as if she was showing me the way. "Her energy just never stops," he commented, finally breaking the silence. He wasn't wrong. She was practically trying to drag me along behind her and would be if she wasn't as small as she was.

I giggled, picking up my pace ever so slightly so appease the urgency the child felt. "I remember being this excited by life too," I admitted. I was a curious child who was always tagging along to trips to the shops with our first housekeeper. Anything they could do to get me out of the house as to keep it quiet for my mother.

"Me too," Gale echoed, his voice sadder than before. I glanced up, noticing a slight frown as he kept his concentration trained ahead of us. Once again, I was reminded that life for me looked vastly different. No matter how innocent my remarks, they always held an edge of naivety.

I didn't say anything else for the last part of the walk to the meadow, and as soon as the waving grass and wildflowers came into view, Posy took off in a sprint ahead of us.

"Usually one of my brothers brings her here almost every day so she can run until she tires out," he said, sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the meadow. "My mom can't wait until she starts school in a few months, she'll finally get peace and quiet while she works."

"I wish I had a little sister. I had always asked for one as a kid, but..." I trailed off, feeling the absence ache in my chest. "Our first housekeeper used to bring her granddaughter with her a few times a week during the summers. Those were my favorite days." The memory of the shy, raven haired girl brought a smile out of me. I hadn't thought about her in what felt like years.

"Well you've definitely won over Posy." A quiet few minutes fell between us as we watched Posy chase a fat, clumsy bumblebee from various patches of flowers, earning a few warnings from Gale when she got too close.

Finally, he spoke up again. "I'm not surprised she picked Rue for an ally," he said, his voice barely above a mumble.

I shook my head, agreeing with him. "She reminds me so much of Prim. How could she not."

After a small debate in my mind, I admitted, "She's wearing the pin I gave her after the Reaping."

Gale's head turned to me in surprise, a dark eyebrow raised in surprise. "I was wondering where she got that from. I didn't think she would have had that and not sold it years ago."

I nodded, not saying anything for a few seconds. "It belonged to my aunt. She died in the second Quarter Quell."

I could nearly feel his gray eyes studying my face, though I fought the urge to look back at him. "I-I didn't know."

I shrugged this off. I didn't like pity. "I never met her, obviously. But my mother misses her dearly. They were twins." I hadn't admitted this to anyone outside of my family, and I doubted anyone aside from Mrs. Everdeen really knew either. "I was named after her middle name, Pearl. Madge means Pearl in some ancient language, or so my father says."

"Pearl," Gale repeated, nodding as I finally afforded a glance in his direction. "It's fitting."

Somehow this didn't feel like a jab, and I looked away as my cheeks tinged pink. Just then, Posy trotted up with a fistful of dandelion flowers and purple violets. Dropping them in my hands, she climbed up between us on the log.

"Did you know that purple is my favorite color?" I asked her, laying out the ones with the longest stems on my leg as I began braiding them together.

"Pur-ple," she sounded out, her finger brushing against the violets in my lap.

"Mm-hm," I hummed encouragingly, tucking in a thick dandelion stem. "What's yours?"

She thought for a long moment, her eyes watching a hummingbird tentatively hover around a tree nearby. "Pink," she answered confidently, and Gale chuckled beside her.

"Pink is always her answer," he explained as I handed her back the short braided rope of flowers.

"What about yours?" I reflected the question back, genuinely curious.

He didn't hesitate. "Blue," he admitted, glancing up to the clear sky above us where the sun hung in the mid-afternoon sky. "Just like days like today."

This immediately reminded me of the consuming pitch black of the mines, the place he was headed in just over a week. I smiled softly and nodded, unable to find an appropriate response where I wouldn't make an ass of myself again.

It didn't take long for Posy's energy to wane, her heavy yawns signaling that a nap was needed for her. Walking back toward the Seam, Posy filled the silence with her mostly meaningless chatter. And when I parted ways with them, following the road back to town, I could feel his eyes watching me.

* * *

**I am back. And I am so excited to be back. I have a Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes for reigniting my love for the series yet again, and I couldn't leave this story alone. All of the places where I had writer's block has begun to grow again in my mind, and I am so excited to see where this story takes me. **

**I have most of the story fleshed out through the end of Mockingjay, but I haven't decided if I want to separate out between Catching Fire and Mockingjay, or keep it as one continuous story. Or how many chapters this will be, though I anticipate at least 30-40. I just can't leave Gadge well enough alone, they deserved a full story. Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

By the time I arrived home, my usually quiet house was teeming with Capitol citizens. I started, my hands shaking as I unlatched the gate to my backyard, seeing them mill about through the large picture windows that lined the dining room with their multicolored hair and outfits. After racing through why they could possibly be here, it dawned on me that they were down to the final eight in the arena. It had been at least five years or more since our district had a tribute survive to this stage, and even then, it was mostly a formality. He had been half-dead and watching the Capitolites patronizing his pain-stricken family to get engaging interview bites they could use had bothered me for weeks after. He died before their interviews could even air. The kid had only been two years older than me, and I had recognized his face at the Reaping from in passing at school.

Dread twisting in my stomach as I reached for the brass knob of the backdoor, though it was yanked from my grasp before I could twist it open. Leera, the housekeeper, stood before me. I sheepishly smiled, shrugging apologetically but her gaze was accusatory. I had left her to fend for herself with the obnoxious guests, and no doubt they had kept her on her toes with ceaseless requests.

"I thought you'd have been home earlier," she raised an eyebrow in my direction as I stepped over the threshold.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," I said evasively. She knew where I was most days, I didn't hide much from her. However, there was no doubt in my mind that the mention of Katniss's family would draw even more unwanted attention and prying from our already invasive guests. Her hand outstretched for the bag hanging from my shoulder, hanging it in the coat closet just as a Capitol attendant sauntered from the sitting room holding an empty cocktail glass in dainty, tattooed fingers.

Before she could request a second round, she caught sight of me. Leera took the empty glass from her without asking for directions before disappearing into the kitchen as the woman approached me, her hand outstretched.

I took it tentatively, fighting the urge to disappear into my bedroom until the morning. I knew my father expected me to help entertain our guests, especially now that I was older. I no longer had the excuse of childhood naivety. Usually our guests were other District leaders like Cray or a strategist from the Capitol, which was much easier to put up with. But this obnoxious gaggle was all but guaranteed to grate my last bit of patience.

"You must be Miss Undersee," she crooned, her Capitol affect thick as she peered at me through her shimmering fringe of lashes. I wonder how she can keep her eyes open, I thought to myself, fighting off a smile from the ridiculous mental image this conjured up.

"Madge, yes," I answered, giving her a tight, polite smile. "And you are?"

"Tissel Elestran, and this is Magnus Keene," she introduced another of her companions that had joined us in the foyer. He grinned from behind her shoulder, his eyes flicking over my face. No doubt my cheeks were pink from sitting in the sun, my blonde hair had been twisted into a knot during the long walk home in the dead heat of the afternoon. "We're part of the press team conducting the interviews tomorrow."

Magnus said nothing, just giving me a tight-lipped smile and terse nod though his judgmental gaze didn't stray from my appearance. I had grown used to the fussing and back-handed comments from our guests.

'_Pretty, but oh so very plain.'_

_'If you fill out more, those dresses will be stunning.'_

_'You'd be a hit in the Capitol. Especially with some color on that fair skin_.'

This last comment had made me physically ill as it echoed in my mind, recalling a remark my father had made. Insinuating that if he were to be caught out of line, the Capitol would execute our family without hesitation. Or even more terrifying, turning me into an Avox and selling me off in the Capitol. Some had a taste for 'exotic' District citizens there. Nothing had made me dream for the anonymity that the rest of the district residents held more.

A few years back during the Victory tour, one of the Capitol attendants insisted on trying out an intricate hairstyle on my then-long hair. However, as a fidgety 11-year old, I quickly lost patience. Much to the dismay of the woman, I immediately began dismantling the winding braids as soon as I got to my room because I didn't like the way it pulled painfully on my scalp.

Thankfully, Leera reemerged from the kitchen with a fresh drink, pulling their attention from me long enough that I could slip into the kitchen. Pulling on the spare apron that hung inside the doorway, I began assessing the chaos to find a place to make myself useful. Anything to keep me from entertaining our guests. I couldn't be scolded for my reluctance to be cheerful and accommodating if I was busy otherwise.

My father arrived home just before dinner, thankfully taking the attention of the entourage away from requesting anything else from Leera and I as we tried to set the table. Putting on a polite smile to make small talk over the meal was more exhausting than usual. Thankfully, Tissel and her companions carried most of the conversations—babbling on about how enraptured the Capitol was with the Games this year and how grateful we should be for such 'an entertaining pair'.

'_I'm glad our pain is enough entertainment for you_,' I thought. I bit back the snarky retort, however, knowing it would bring me nothing but a scolding from my father. I was too old to excuse my words as a loose-tongued child, I knew better now and anything I said could come back to haunt us.

I excused myself early, taking a small plate of dinner up to my mother who was effectively unconscious to the world. A thread of bitterness flared up when I saw the empty morphling syringe lying on the nightstand beside the dim lamp. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we all could escape like this when we didn't want to face reality? I caught myself then, ashamed at this thought. I couldn't begin to know her pain, and I felt a sense of suffocating guilt with my intolerance of hers.

I was quickly pulled back into the sitting room where the daily recap broadcast was echoing loudly down the hallways from the television we normally kept off and silent. I sat to the back of the group, only speaking when spoken to as I was accustomed to. Thankfully my presence was of little matter to them and I was all too good at being invisible.

Since Katniss had concealed herself high in a tree for the night, Caesar and Claudius Templesmith could focus on rehashing the events of the day. Every possible angle replayed the explosion of the Career's supplies and the death of the District 3 boy by Cato's hands. A doctor on-hand for consultation explained that Katniss's behaviors likely indicated at least partial deafness in her left ear. This development sent the trio into a spiral of discussion on what this could mean for their 'favorite' tribute.

It was then that I fully tuned out of the room, counting the spines of the dozens of books lining the wall of shelves and categorizing them into colors. Ninety-five in total, just one shy of an even eight dozen. Twelve red books, seventeen green, nine blue, and the others in a varying range of brown and gray. I lost interest by then, excusing myself for bed.

It had taken me hours to fall asleep though I couldn't place one specific train of thought that kept me from the escape of sleep. I tended to try and sort through all of my anxieties at night, even when this did nothing more than amplify my stressors. I never did solve much, instead missing out of sleep that would give me a clear mind the next day.

I had awoken early with the sun just beginning to illuminate the night sky in a dull haze. I took extra care getting ready, brushing through my blonde waves before tying half of it back with a white ribbon. The blue dress I wore had been my mother's as a girl and I had spent years as a girl dreaming of when I could finally wear it. Now it felt like a sick joke to be wearing it for the interviews today, as anything relating to the Games set my mother off.

They had already begun setting up for the interviews today and I slipped into the kitchen to stay out of their way... and to avoid being pulled into helping them.

While I helped clear the dishes from the breakfast table, I heard a collective intake of gasps coming from the sitting room where Tissel and her gaggle had gathered to finish their tea and discuss their strategy for the day. I stepped just inside of the doorway, my eyes flitting across the room before I realized they were fixated on the broadcast playing.

The second I made sense of what I was looking at, it felt like every ounce of air had escaped my lungs. Little Rue lay in Katniss's arms, the wound on her abdomen oozing bright red blood that stained her uniform and hands. Hot tears stung my eyes and I tried to blink them away as the sound of Katniss singing to Rue filled the room. While I fought my emotions back, the Capitolites around me openly wept. Like they care, I thought bitterly, swallowing down the bile as my stomach churned.

I couldn't help imagining Rue as Prim, and I could only imagine that Katniss had already made the same association. They were too similar, and no doubt that was the reason Katniss hadn't hesitated to protect the small girl. Katniss could protect Prim, but she was powerless to protect Rue the same way. She had never stood a chance in the arena, but it was easy to ignore those odds until it happened. None of it was fair. This felt especially cruel; framed by Katniss's grief that was rarely seen in the arena. It wasn't often that tears were shed for others during the Games, not by other tributes. And as we watched Katniss frame the small girl in flowers, I could tell by the reactions of the clownish crew around me that this was completely uncharted territory.

I turned on my heel, stalking off away from them. I couldn't stand to listen to their fake pity for any longer and still hold back my anger. It had been bubbling under the surface since last night. They truly cared nothing for the small girl, nor for Peeta who still lay dying in a creek bed, nor for Katniss. This was nothing more than a tragic show they couldn't look away from. Forgettable as soon as the newest, shiniest thing crossed their path.

My reprieve from their weeping was short-lived as Mr. Mellark and Peeta's brothers arrived at our front door. Leera reached the door first, ushering them inside. They were quickly swept away by Magnus, his voice chattering instructions as he led them down the long hall to the den. This time, when the second knock at the door came, I was the one to answer.

Prim stood with her hands clasped in front of her; a timid, anxious smile looking up at me. Mrs. Everdeen mirrored the same expression though her eyes were searching for something behind me. My mother had given herself a fresh dose of morphling after she finished breakfast in bed, so I knew there was no way she would be making an appearance for this.

It wasn't until I had stepped back to let them in that I realized Gale was with them. I blinked in surprise, recovering my expression quickly. I hadn't expected him to participate in the interviews. This seemed like the last thing he would ever do. I wondered who gave his name to the team, secretly thankful that I hadn't been brought up as Katniss and I only sat together during school.

He hesitated outside of the door, his eyes darting around before he stepped inside. Leera had returned, striking up small talk with Mrs. Everdeen. Leera was from the Seam, and it occurred to me that they more than likely knew each other. I moved to Prim, giving her a hug that seemed to put the small girl at ease. When I glanced back, Gale stood by the door with his hands in his pockets, looking every bit as uncomfortable as I would have expected.

"Nice place," he remarked, a slight sarcastic tone to his voice as his eyes met mine. I would have rolled my eyes if it weren't for the quick mischievous glint in his own.

Thankfully, Tissel swept into the room just as I felt my cheeks burn. I cursed myself for feeling so unnerved by him, slipping away as she commanded their attention.

My haven in the kitchen was interrupted when I was pulled in to hold a stack of papers for the team. I stood silently in the back of the den, trying to stay out of the way as much as I could. It wasn't until I heard Tissel and Magnus discussing Gale.

"Friend? No, no. That won't do. Look at him!" Tissel chirped, and I tried to hold back the snort of amusement as I met his gaze again. He appeared just as annoyed with the crew as I was, grimacing as he flinched away from their fretting hands attempting to fix any hairs out of place.

"They all look the same. Call him her cousin," suggested the woman as she put down the comb.

To this Gale glared at her, clenching his jaw before looking out the window. _If looks could kill,_ I thought.

Finally, the interviews began, starting with Prim. After a few rounds and the attention of the room elsewhere, I laid down the stack of papers on a side table and slipped out of the den. I doubted they even knew I was there, let alone notice that I had left.

As I retreated down the hallway, the cacophony from the den became muffled and distant. Stepping into the sitting room, I slid the heavy wooden door shut as quietly as I could. I sat down at my piano with the sun of the late morning fading from the windows as it moved higher in the sky, the sheer curtains still glowing with the warm rays though. Staring at the keys for a long moment, feeling the ache in my chest as my mind replayed the final moments of Rue's life. The way the Capitol attendants cried as she died, and then continued like it was nothing more than a heartbreaking plot point infuriated me. I couldn't stand to be in the same room as them any longer.

My hands gripped the edge of the bench tightly before I pulled myself back into the present moment. Reaching up, I pressed gently down on a random key. The soft hum filling the empty space. Oh, how I wished I had my house back to myself, so I could play without concern of disrupting our guests. I began flowing my fingers over the keys in a familiar exercise, though softly enough that I could escape complaints. The sound would barely carry past the heavy door. I was used to playing like this when my mother had her headaches.

After a few rounds of exercises, my hands merged the cadence into an old sonata I had memorized as a young girl. The name escaped me, but the memory of the yellowed paper lined with notes I had found in my father's collection of old books remained. Our first housekeeper had taught me how to read the strange symbols on the papers, relating them to the keys. It was enough, and I had taught myself the rest.

I lost sense of time as I played, the keys flowing like second nature. The tension and frustration melted out of my muscles until I heard the wooden door slide open. I jumped in surprise, twisting where I sat to look back. Gale stood, paused with the door halfway shut again. He raised his hands, smirking sheepishly.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he apologized as he sealed us off from the rest of the house again. I shrugged it off, giving him a soft smile. He moved silently, coming to sit beside me on the white bench.

"How'd you manage to sneak away?" I questioned, avoiding his gaze as I toyed with a few random keys.

He shrugged next to me, and I knew he had a smug grin without needing to look in his direction. "How did _you_ manage to sneak away?" he reflected the question back.

"They aren't interviewing me," I reasoned, my voice level and bored. I had been careful to avoid letting on that I knew Katniss and her family. I wanted no part of sitting in front of the cameras today, especially not after watching Rue die just a few hours ago. I knew they were in District 11 to interview her family and instead of calling off the interviews, I'm sure they were all-too eager to capture their fresh grief.

"Yeah, how did you get out of that one?" He pried, pressing a key in front of him to disrupt the melody I had been playing.

I stopped, sighing with a slight irritation as I finally looked over at him. "They can't use what they don't know." He raised a dark eyebrow as he studied me, his steel gray eyes narrowing for a brief second. "Who ratted you out?"

A pit in my stomach twisting under his gaze, I turned away again. I ran my fingers along the shelf that held the sheet music, brushing off nearly invisible dust.

"Oh, so it wasn't you?" he teased, the smile in his voice giving him away. I rolled my eyes with a small shake of my head, the hair I had brushed behind my shoulder falling to frame my face. "They were asking around town yesterday, so it's too hard to tell."

"The cousin bit was clever," I remarked. Looking back to him, his attention was fixed out the window, but I caught the flex in his jaw again as he grimaced. To this he didn't respond, and the silence sat heavy between us for a long minute.

Finally, he spoke up again with a snort. "I could take three baths and still feel like I shouldn't touch anything in here. This is more like a museum than a house."

"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?" I cross my arms, more easily annoyed than I normally would be. Could a day go by that Gale didn't bring up how different I was.

"Come on, I was joking," he smirked, nudging me with his shoulder to lighten my mood.

Instead I rolled my eyes again, not wanting to give him the win of a smile that was trying to break through. "You know you're an ass, right?"

This makes him grin. "It's so easy to push your buttons, Undersee."

I let out a huff, pulling the cover over the keys shut with a sharp clatter. Part of me hoped they would hear and drag him back into the interviews. Serves him right. He always managed to get under my skin. "Fuck off, Hawthorne."

Raising his eyebrows, he snorts out a laugh. "That's not something I thought I'd ever hear coming from your mouth." I smiled finally, enjoying that I was able to catch him off-guard for once.

"So, what's it like putting up with those clowns?" he asked and this time it was my turn to giggle.

"Imagine toddlers, very colorful toddlers. Who need everything done for them. I mean, everything. And when you do the things they ask for; they still insult you in the nicest way they possibly can." I could think of at least ten more things to say, but this was the most concise way to describe our guests. I was desperately hoping that they would be on the train in the morning.

"I'd lose my shit," he joked, though we both knew it was true.

"Unlike you, I know how to bite my tongue."

To this, he shrugged. "That's probably true. There's much worse I could say, but I keep it to myself," he argued, and I knew he was right. Gale was never shy about expressing how he felt about the Capitol, but he was just cautious enough to say just enough that he wouldn't get into trouble.

Voices in the hallway neared the door, and before I could place the voice, Tissel slide the door open and popped her head in. "Oh, there you are! We need just a few more things," she said directly to Gale, effectively ignoring my presence beside him. She motioned for him to follow but turned to retreat before he could even stand up from the bench. With an exasperated sigh and shake of his head, he stood to leave.

Before he slipped out of the now open door, he turned back to me. "By the way, I really liked the song you were playing before I came in. You're good." With a small smile, he disappeared into the hallway. I stared after him a long moment, blinking a few times before I regained my composure.

* * *

**Again, thank you so much for reading. Diving head first into writing these last few days has been a very welcome distraction. I found myself relating to Madge's frustration with her own mother, as my own had battled addiction and lost her fight last week. This said, I'm hoping I can keep this drive to continue writing, but if my emotions catch up with me I may take a little time off. **

**I loved the personality that came out of Madge in this chapter, especially getting to explore her less-perfect traits than are usually seen in the canon series. It makes her a little more tangible to me. As always, I appreciate those of you who read, bookmark, and review. Let me know what you thought!**


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